Lost and Found
by Birdieq
Summary: Tragedy tore Derek and Addison Shepherd apart. Can a miracle bring them back together?
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, I did it. I started another story. I know I owe you guys an update on Life Ain't Always Beautiful, and I promise I will try** _ **really hard**_ **to get that done tomorrow. I swear I have not abandoned it!**

"Mama, get the phone!"

"It's okay, baby. They'll leave a message," she assures the dark-haired toddler who is eagerly helping her prepare dinner. She took the week off so the nanny could visit her granddaughters out of state, and is doing her best to use this time with her child intentionally. Phone calls can wait; making memories - no matter how mundane they seem - with a child who seems to be growing by the day will not.

A few minutes later her cell phone rings again, and again she ignores it. But when it rings a third time, she crosses the room to where it's plugged into the charger. Her heart stops when she sees the name of someone she hasn't heard from in months - _Detective Mannino._ After a few deep breaths she answers. "He...hello?

"Doctor Montgomery? We found her."

…..

He's scrubbing out after a frontal lobe tumor resection when he hears someone enter the scrub room.

"Got a minute?"

He barely glances up from the sink. "Not much more than that. I have a hemispherectomy on a four-year-old in an hour."

"Addison called me."

This catches his attention, and when he looks up he sees something on the chief's face. Shock? Disbelief? Fear? Whatever it is sends his heart racing. The last thing he hears before the room goes black is the four words he'd convinced himself he'd never hear.

"Derek, they found her."

…..

He's berating an intern for forgetting to pick up his dry cleaning - _again_ \- when his phone rings. _Red_. "Get out of my sight!" he bellows to the quivering mess in front of him before answering. "You change your mind about din-"

She sounds like she's hyperventilating when she cuts him off. "Maria's out of town, mom's on a cruise, and Savvy's kids are sick and I have to get to the hospital can you come watch Jojo _now?"_

"Whoa, slow down! You're on vacation. You swore you weren't going in. Let someone-"

"Mark, they found her!"

 **So. I know it's vague, and it's short. All will be revealed in time, and I promise subsequent chapters will be longer! Chapter two will be posted tomorrow if I get a decent response. Anyone interested?**


	2. Chapter 2

It's two in the afternoon when he finally arrives at New York-Presbyterian's children's hospital, almost exactly twenty-four hours after hearing those most unexpected words. He would have been here much sooner, but _of course_ his flight from Seattle has been delayed because of the weather.

He locates a receptionist, gets a visitor's pass and directions to the ICU, then makes his way to the elevators. He hears crying before the doors even open. It's hardly surprising; hospitals aren't exactly happy places, after all. What is surprising, though, is that this unhappy child is wailing inconsolably into the shoulder of a very familiar character.

"Derek." Mark forces a weary smile and shifts the little girl to one hip so he can offer a hand to his old friend.

"Mark. And this is…"

Mark nods and tickles the dark-haired child under her arm. She fights it at first but eventually giggles. "Hey Jos, can you can you say hi? Come on, say hi to…to…"

Here Mark falters. Sure, Josephine has seen photos of Derek; he sends a check every month, usually for more than the court-ordered amount, gifts on Christmas and birthdays. But the last time they saw each other, she was a squalling newborn, Derek a reluctant new father. Sure, Addison tells the girl about her father, but is it his place to make the introduction?

"Daddy," Derek supplies, relieving him of the responsibility. Her head whips around at the sound of his voice and she fixes him with a wary stare for a moment; he reaches over to brush an unruly tendril out of her face but she shies away and resumes crying.

Mark rubs her back, sways a little bit. "Sorry, man. We just stopped to bring Addison a few things and have lunch, and she's a little upset that she can't stay. And it's past naptime, so…"

"It's fine. I understand. Look, I'll, um, I'll catch up with you later?" He doesn't mean to brush them off, but he's anxious to see Sarah.

Mark nods in understanding. "Of course. Go see your daughter."

Derek bids them goodbye and hurries along to the ICU, carry-on still slung over his shoulder, where a nurse points him to Sarah's room. He comes to a halt in the doorway, stunned by what he sees. Of course she's changed - it's been five years, after all - but the long, thin frame under the white hospital blanket and pale, narrow face are a punch to the gut when the only image he's been able to summon is of a chubby-cheeked preschooler still soft with baby fat. Her mouth is obscured by an endotracheal tube but he knows the nubby little baby teeth are long gone, and she's grown into the ears that they'd laughed over when she was a baby. It's a brutal reminder of how much they've missed, and he has to choke back a sob.

The noise startles Addison and she glances up from her post by the bed. She'd been dozing, although she'll deny it if asked, he knows, but she jumps up and approaches him with the first genuine smile he's seen on her face since that dreadful day.

"She's back," she chokes out before bursting into tears and throwing her arms around his neck.

"She is. She's back." He holds her tight and strokes her hair while she has her brief but much-needed breakdown. "How is she? Any changes?" he asks once she steps back and pulls herself together.

"It's definitely pneumonia," she says as she reclaims her seat, "but the antibiotics are already kicking in. Fever's down and they just turned the oxygen down a bit, and her doctor says if she keeps improving like that they'll wean her off the sedatives and try to extubate in the morning."

He takes a chair next to her. "That's great. Do the police know anything more?"

She shakes her head. "All they know is that a jogger found her in the park yesterday afternoon, under a bush. It had been pouring all day so chances are no one had been by there in hours, so God only knows how long she'd been there."

It sickens him to think of someone discarding his child that way. "But why? After all this time…"

"Who knows."

"Are there any signs of…" He shudders at the thought of the awful things that might have been done to his baby, but Addison shakes her head.

"Honestly, she looks good, like she's been really well-cared for," she informs him, and it offers some comfort to know she hasn't been harmed, at least physically. "No cuts, no bruises...they did x rays and there were no broken bones. She's not malnourished or neglected. No signs of any sexual abuse…"

Her voice hitches on the last few words and he reaches for her hand. "She's okay, Addie. She's gonna be okay," he says, though he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

He studies his ex-wife for a moment. Her eyes are underlined with dark circles, the creases in the corners when she smiles more pronounced than the last time he saw her. She's thinner, too, most notably in her face, her body hunched and weary. And yet she looks like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders since that time, too - of course, given the events of that day, it's completely understandable; to this day, he's in awe that she didn't crumble under all that weight.

" _Almost there, Addison. Come on, gimme one more push!"_

 _She screamed and nearly broke his hand during that push before collapsing limp against the pillows while their baby let out a lusty wail._

" _Congratulations, it's a girl!" the obstetrician announced, her cheerfulness tempered by her understanding of their situation. "You want to cut the cord, dad?"_

 _He shook his head as he covered his eyes and sobbed, but accepted the offered scissors. "I'm sorry, Addison, I can't do this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he stammered before proceeding, and along with the umbilical cord he cut his ties to the woman he'd been married to for eleven years._

" _Derek? Derek! Derek!"_

 _He could hear her anguished cries all the way down the hall to the elevator. He almost changed his mind as he stepped inside, but after a few deep breaths he hit "down" and relieved himself of the burden he knew would cripple him._

He'd passed that burden on to her to carry alone, and it should have crushed her. It hadn't, though. In true Montgomery fashion she'd held her head high and soldiered on, doing her best to be mommy and daddy to the dark-haired baby that could never replace their stolen redhead.

He squeezes her hand and gives her a sad smile when she turns to him. "I'm sorry, Addie."

Her smile mirrors his. "Yeah, me too."

"So, I saw Mark when I came in," he says a moment later when they pull apart. "And…"

She smiles again, but it's lighter this time. "And Josie. Was she still screaming?"

He has to laugh. "Oh, yeah. Like a banshee."

"Poor honey. The 'no children in the ICU' policy isn't really to her liking."

"Clearly. She...she's gotten so big."

"Yeah, children do that," she muses wistfully as she watches Sarah in her state of artificial slumber. "They certainly do…"

The hours pass slowly as they slip into a comfortable silence, occasionally reminiscing as they keep vigil over their daughter. Finally a nurse comes in to apologetically inform them that visitors' hours are over, and only one of them can stay overnight.

"You stayed last night. I'll stay," he offers.

"No, you must be beat after that flight. You should get some sleep."

They go back and forth but eventually he agrees that she can stay. "You're welcome to stay at the house," she offers, and he accepts. "Mark's there with Josie, he'll let you in."

He stands up and kisses her forehead, then kisses Sarah and smooths back her matted, unkempt hair. "Goodnight, princess. I'll see you in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

It's after nine o'clock and starting to drizzle when he gets out of the cab. With all his luggage it would be quicker and easier to ring the doorbell but he's afraid of waking Josephine so instead he fumbles for his keys - yes, he kept his key to the brownstone; no, he's not really sure why - and lets himself in quietly.

"Mama?"

He drops his bags and peeks into the living room to find Josie kneeling at the coffee table clad in a lightweight strawberry-printed sleeper, her head turned towards the doorway; he feels a twinge of guilt when her face goes from hopeful to heartbroken when she realizes it isn't her mother coming home. At least Mark, who is sitting cross-legged on the other side of the table, looks happy to see him; he grins and waves Derek over when he enters the room.

"I thought she'd be in bed." As he makes his way over to the couch, Josie shuffles around the table and attaches herself to Mark's side.

"Bit of advice - never let your kid take a three hour nap at two-thirty in the afternoon," Mark says a bit sheepishly before prying Josie off of him and turning her to face Derek. "Josie, say hi to daddy."

He swears she gives him the stink eye before leaning in to whisper something in Mark's ear. He can't make out what she's saying, but catches the sadness that briefly flickers in his friend's eyes.

"He's not a stranger, Jos. He's your dad. See? That's him." Mark points to a framed photo hanging above the couch. The photo is from the trip they took to Disney World for Sarah's fourth birthday; they're in front of the castle and he's holding Sarah, who is wearing a Cinderella dress and sparkly tiara. He has his free arm around Addison's shoulders, and they look like the happiest family on earth. "Mommy knows him. You can talk to him."

She raises her eyebrows and gives Mark a questioning look. He can't really blame her - his hair is longer now and touched with gray, his face scruffy, and he feels at least a hundred years older; surely he looks nothing like that happy, carefree thirty-something anymore.

"It's okay. I've known him since I was just a little kid. Would your Uncle Mark let a stranger come in the house?"

She doesn't look entirely convinced but shakes her head, making her dark curls, still damp from the bath, bounce above her shoulders. With a little more encouragement she gives Derek a barely audible "hi" before wiggling her way onto Mark's lap and reaching for one of the brightly-colored ponies on the table with one hand, and a bowl of bunny-shaped graham crackers with the other.

The two men spend the next half hour getting caught up, their conversation punctuated by Josie's failed attempts at making horse noises, until the girl starts to yawn. "Okay, I think someone's ready for bed." Mark stands up and lifts Josie, who offers no resistance. "Can you give your dad a hug?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. One little hug."

"Mama says I don't hafta hug anyone if I don't wanna," Josie whines as she wraps her arms around Mark's neck.

"Josie, he's your dad-"

"No! I don't wanna give him a hug!"

This time her voice trembles and her eyes well up with tears, so Derek holds his hands up in defeat. "It's fine, really."

Mark relents and heads upstairs with Josie, and Derek heads to the kitchen for something to eat. He finds the pantry filled with an unfamiliar assortment of cereal and snacks. Organic this, one-hundred percent natural that, non-GMO, whole grain, no artificial colors or flavors, no sugar added. _No fun_ , he thinks. The fridge is well-stocked with berries and fresh vegetables, and there is a bowl of fruit on the counter. _Does Addison really live here?_ Sure, his ex-wife tended to stick to a fairly healthy diet and provided their daughter with nutritious, well-balanced meals, but she wasn't opposed to the occasional Oreo cookie or handful of Goldfish crackers and made fun of his habit of eating muesli for breakfast every day. Whoever lives here is clearly a health nut.

He gives up and settles for an apple, which he munches on while strolling through the house. He's amazed by how much it hasn't changed; all the familiar photos of Sarah - and of himself - still line the walls, along with a handful of framed pieces of the girl's preschool artwork. Aside from a new area rug in the living room and a few pictures of Josephine scattered here and there, everything is the same; he can't help but wonder if-

"Hey. She's out," Mark announces, pulling him from his thoughts. "I told her you'll be here in the morning so hopefully she'll be okay, but Addison's pretty big on the whole 'stranger danger' thing, so…"

"Gee, I hadn't noticed. Apparently she's pretty big on the whole twigs and berries diet thing, too."

Mark snorts at this. "I guess you could call it that. But anyway, Josie's pretty easy as far as breakfast goes. Cereal, oatmeal, eggs, fruit and yogurt...she'll eat whatever. After breakfast give her her vitamins. She gets a multivitamin, a vitamin C, a probiotic, and two of the omega-threes. They're in the cabinet next to the fridge."

Derek rolls his eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

Mark shrugs. "Look, you and Addison were dealt a shitty hand. You dealt with it by running away to the opposite side of the country and cutting yourself off from your friends and family. She's dealing with it by doing the best she can to keep that little girl safe and healthy, and you don't get judge how she does it. You gave up that right the second you stepped out of that hospital room. So just go with it." Derek mutters something resembling an apology, and Mark continues. "Where was I? Oh. She had a bath tonight, so you don't have to worry about that. Now, she's still working on potty training-"

"Wait, She's not toilet trained? She's three!"

"Not for two more weeks. And what did I just say about not judging?"

Derek exhales loudly and barely suppresses an eye roll. "Fine. Sorry."

"As I was saying, she's doing pretty well but today was...not the greatest, but that's probably just because she's upset that Addison hasn't been home. So you might want to stick with the training pants tomorrow morning just in case, but it's up to you. I really need to go in tomorrow for rounds and to finish up some paperwork, but I'll try to be here by eight so you can get to the hospital, so I think that covers everything you need to know."

"Yeah, I'd say that covers everything. And...thank you, for being here. I'll call my sisters in the morning, see if one of them can come watch her so you can get back to work."

"It's no big deal. I'm just glad Sarah's back," Mark says with a grin before smirking. "Now go get some sleep. You look like shit."

As soon as Mark leaves Derek double checks that the doors are locked, turns off the lights, grabs his bags and heads upstairs. At the top he takes a deep breath, peeks in the first room on the right and flicks on the light. He exhales slowly when he realizes the room - the largest on the second floor aside from the master suite - is frozen in time, looking exactly the way it did the day Sarah disappeared almost exactly five years ago.

It's truly a room fit for a princess, all soft pink and cream, satin and lace, with gold and crystal accents, complete with a full-size canopy bed and antique chandelier. One wall is lined with framed photos of castles, and underneath are pegs holding Sarah's vast collection of princess dresses, while a vanity, also antique, is littered with an assortment of tiaras and other accessories. The room had been a labor of love, a surprise for Sarah's third birthday that they had completed while she spent a weekend with Derek's mother. She had squealed with delight when she first saw it, and showered them with hugs, kisses, and breathless thank yous, making their hard work worthwhile.

The only other bedroom is small, not much more than half this size. It was supposed to be their son's nursery, and had been Josie's nursery. He always assumed that at some point Josie would outgrow that tiny room and Addison would give her this one. It would make sense, no point in letting a room this size go to waste, but he has to admit that he's relieved that isn't the case; his little princess will come home to a familiar room.

After shutting off the light he creeps across the hall to the room that had been the nursery. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim glow from the nightlight, then he can tell it's been changed from the theme they had chosen - or, rather, Addison had chosen and he had gone along with because, no matter how hard he tried, he really hadn't cared what the room looked like.

" _Derek, what about this one?"_

 _They're in some upscale baby boutique - the third one since they left Addison's OB appointment that morning - and she's holding up a crib quilt adorned with owls, raccoons, foxes, and an assortment of other woodland critters and grinning expectantly. Expecting what, he's not really sure, but -_

" _It's fine."_

 _Her shoulders slump and she groans. "Really?"_

 _He rolls his eyes. "What do you want, Addison? It's a quilt. You want me to jump up and down? Clap my hands? Just pick something already!"_

" _That's what I'm_ trying _to do!" She tosses the quilt back in the crib and brushes past him to the next display. "But you're not helping me!"_

" _I said it was fine!"_

" _That's what you've said about every single set we looked at. Every name I've suggested. For God's sake, Derek, I asked if you were excited that it's a girl and you said 'it's fine.' Would it kill you to show a_ little _enthusiasm about your child? Just a little?"_

 _He skirts this question. "We have a perfectly good nursery set at home."_

" _That's Christopher's." She purses her lips and looks up to keep the tears at bay as she thinks of the little nautical-themed room, navy and white with hints of sky blue and red._

" _It was supposed to be Christopher's. He never used it," he corrects, as if she needs reminding. "And what's the big deal? The baby won't know the difference. By the time she's old enough to care you'll be sick of it and ready to redecorate again anyway. Just pick something and let's go."_

" _You know what? You should go."_

" _Addison-"_

" _No, really. You obviously don't care, and I don't need you so you should go."_

" _Fine. I'll see you later," he grumbles, not eager for the argument that's sure to come later, but glad to be relieved of nursery-decorating duties._

" _No, Derek. You should go. Not home, just...go."_

" _Are you out of your mind?"_

" _I might've been, to stay with you this long. I waited, Derek. I waited days for you to come home so I could tell you I was pregnant. Asked you to come home,_ begged _you. And when you finally did come home, you said you wanted a divorce. You don't want me, and you clearly don't want this baby, so go."_

" _I don't want-"_

" _You're scared. Of messing up, of losing another child, of loving another child as much as you loved Sarah...or of not being able to love her as much as Sarah, I don't know. I don't know what you're scared of, but you're scared and I get that and...I'm giving you an out. Take it. We'll be fine. Just go."_

 _Of course he hadn't left for good, at least not that day; he'd gone back to the brownstone intending to console himself with a bottle of scotch, but ended up in Sarah's room letting out the emotions he'd been keeping in the last four months since Addison had announced her pregnancy. It was well past dusk when Addison finally came home empty-handed and found him there sobbing in the dark, Sarah's beloved plush Velveteen Rabbit clutched to his chest. He'd begged for her forgiveness - which she, being Addison, had readily given - and promised to be there for her and their unborn daughter. The next night after work, they had gone back to the boutique and he'd feigned enthusiasm as they settled on a purple butterfly bedding set. The following weekend he painted the nursery walls lavender, and tried to look forward to meeting the child who would occupy the room._

He has to admit that Addison has made good use of the small space. The bed is only twin size, with a simple, white, wrought-iron headboard and the closet has a curtain as a door, when opened, would smash into the bookcase that is crammed full of books, toys, and baskets of necessities. Under one window is a sturdy, wooden toy chest that could easily double as seating for a small child, though at the moment it is lined with a collection of teddy bears in a rainbow of colors.

It's a cheerful little room. The walls are now a soft, sunny yellow instead of lavender, the quilt on the bed a patchwork of rainbows, smiling suns, and puffy, rosy-cheeked clouds, the curtains rainbow-striped and he remembers that Addison used to say Josie was her rainbow baby.

That's a real term, he knows, used to indicate a baby born after the loss of a pregnancy or child. A reward for weathering a storm, the promise of better days to come. Josie wasn't his rainbow baby. Christopher was - or should have been. Josie? She was an accident - that's what he'd told Addison in a moment of anger - a careless night of passionless, obligatory anniversary sex a few days too soon after a round of antibiotics rendered Addison's birth control temporarily useless. He's not proud of himself for saying it out loud, and it's hard to look at the child snoozing under the colorful quilt and say she was a mistake, but that was how he'd felt at the time.

After one last glance around the room he shuffles down the hall to the room that used to be his. He digs a t-shirt and pajama pants out of his suitcase, gets changed, and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. On the counter he finds a number of items that definitely aren't Addison's - toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, none of them the brands he assumes she's still loyal to. And then there's the shaving cream and aftershave that are all too familiar - because they're the ones his best friend has used since college. _Well, he did stay here last night_ , he tells himself before spotting Mark's shampoo and body wash in the shower. _He brought all that for one night?_ Then again, Mark's never been exactly low maintenance.

Back in the bedroom he's about to shut off the light when he notices a dresser drawer partially open - something that always annoyed Addison. He peeks inside and finds a few men's t-shirts, pajama pants, boxers and socks. A glance in the closet reveals a couple of shirts, dress pants, and ties. It's not much, certainly not enough to suggest Mark has moved in, but if he had to guess he'd say his old friend probably stays here more nights than not. He shakes his head and sighs - sure, it's none of his business who his ex-wife sleeps with now, but now that he knows, he doesn't have to _like it_ \- before glancing back at the bed and shaking his head again. The thought of Addison sleeping with Mark in the bed they used to share is too much, and he grumbles as he grabs his bags and trudges back downstairs to sleep on the couch. _Thanks a lot, buddy. You did always want what I had, didn't you?_

Despite his annoyance, the last 2 days catch up to him and he's soon asleep. It's pitch-black when he's roused from his much-needed slumber, and it takes a moment to remember where he is - and _why_ he's there _-_ and figure out what woke him. He's still blinking sleepily when the floor creaks above him; seconds later little feet are padding down the stairs.

"Mama?"

 _Josie. Coming down stairs. In the dark._

The _dark_ dark, because he hadn't thought to leave any lights on.

He scrambles to the hallway and flicks the light switch at the bottom of the staircase. She instantly squeezes her eyes shut against the unexpected bright light and calls out for Addison again. He's hardly surprised when she finally opens them and, upon seeing Derek instead, promptly bursts into tears.

"Hey, Josie, it's okay. It's me, daddy," he says softly as he creeps closer to the stairs. He begins his approach cautiously, not wanting to alarm her, but when he's covered half the distance between them she turns to run back upstairs - and slips on the blanket clutched in one hand. Somehow, with his heart pounding wildly in his chest, he closes the gap between them just in time to grab her, and feels her sharp intake of breath at the same instant that he lets out a sigh of relief.

The relief doesn't last long, though, because that breath she took comes out as a mighty wail as she arches her back and thrashes so wildly that they both nearly go down, but he manages to tuck her under one arm and grab the railing with his free hand to steady himself before heading up.

He's surprised by how heavy her flailing body is. He can still remember Sarah, feather-light in his arms, whisper-thin limbs dangling; he swore she was made of nothing but sunshine and cotton candy, a generous dose of sweetness and light in their already charmed lives. Josie is different. Sturdy and compact, she's a good three or four inches shorter than Sarah at this age but heavier, more solid. And stronger. And _definitely_ louder. And though he hasn't spent much time with her, _sweetness_ and _light_ aren't exactly the first words that come to mind to describe her.

She's still screeching when they reach the sunny little room that is so at odds with her current disposition, and he's unsure of his next move. If this was Sarah - _not that she would have ever behaved like this_ \- he would have held her, rocked her until she quieted, but he's pretty certain Josie wouldn't find that comforting. If anything, it seems akin to...molestation. He shudders at the thought and drops her on the bed, only to grab her again when she tries to scramble past him.

"No, Jos, come on. It's time for bed. Lie down. That's a good girl," he says soothingly as he deposits her back in bed and pulls the quilt up to her chin. "Here's your baby. You want the baby?" he offers hopefully as he grabs the rag doll from the toy chest and thrusts it at her, but she just continues crying. "No? Okay, um...how about this?" This time he selects a teddy bear, bright yellow with a smiling sun on its tummy, that looks vaguely familiar; it's not one of Sarah's toys, of that he's sure. Finally it comes to him - it looks like the bears Kathleen's oldest daughters collected when they were small. In his groggy, sleep-deprived state he smiles at the memory, then frowns... _has it really been long enough for the fad to come back? The girls can't possibly be that old._

He's jolted back to the present when Josie, maybe sensing his distraction and taking advantage, makes another attempt to escape. This time she makes it to the door before he grabs her. Once more he returns her to bed, and this time when she bolts he's ready. In two strides he's at the door, pressing his back to it and sliding down until he's sitting on the floor. Josie stands a few feet away, just out of his reach, her angry wails giving way to sad sobs occasionally punctuated by coughing fits.

"Hey, how about a story? You want a story?" If he can't comfort the child, he hopes he can at least distract her and lull her back to sleep so he reaches over and grabs a stack of books from the shelf.

It's a mix of old books - _Goodnight Moon, Where the Wild Things Are, Blueberries for Sal -_ and new, one about a very naughty little boy, another featuring a girl who loves dressing up.

The last book in the stack takes his breath away. _The Velveteen Rabbit._ Sarah's favorite. He frowns at the purple streaks scribbled across the cover knowing Sarah would not approve, and has to ball his hands into fists to stop them from shaking when he opens the book and finds the first page - the page that he knows reads " _Dearest Sarah, Happy 1st birthday, princess. XOXO, Grandma,"_ \- torn out. He wants to believe it's a different copy, Josie's own copy, but he can still make out the first two letters of Sarah's name along the jagged edge.

The book is a Shepherd family tradition. His oldest sister, Kathleen, had received a copy for her first birthday, and it had been passed down and loved by all the siblings for fifteen years - until little Amy had torn it to shreds when Derek tried to read it to her a week after they'd buried their father. That was the last he'd seen of the book until years later when Kathleen's first daughter turned one; since then, every child in the Shepherd clan had received a copy of the book for their first birthday, each signed with his mother's perfect script. Some - like Derek and siblings - had loved it; others were indifferent. Sarah went beyond love. Every night before bed she had to have two stories - and one of them _had_ to be _The Velveteen Rabbit_. She was so enamored with it that a few months later when he came across a plush Velveteen Rabbit in a toy store he couldn't resist buying it for her - and she'd slept with it every night since.

He tries to shake the memory from his mind and turns to the next page. It's fully intact but, like the cover, defaced with purple crayon. A quick flip through the rest of the book reveals more scribbles, some pages patched back together with clear tape, others dog-eared and creased. Sarah - neat, tidy little Sarah - would hate this. He wants to scream, to tell Josie how naughty she is and yet, when he looks up to see her pitiful, ruddy, tear-streaked face not two feet away, clearly anticipating the story, he can't. So he takes a few deep breaths and begins reading. He finds himself lost in the familiar tale, slipping back into the different voices that always made Sarah laugh, and Josie inches closer with every page until she's almost in his lap. By the time he's finished he thinks she's asleep, but when he sets the book down she reaches for it.

"Again."

So he reads it again, and this time she really is asleep when he gets to the end. Carefully he lifts her and tucks her under the quilt, then considers his options. The couch seems so far away, and he's nervous about leaving her alone upstairs again, but Addison's bed...well, that's just not an option. With a sigh he grabs an afghan from the end of Josie's bed, lies down on the floor, and is out like a light in seconds.

 **Blah blah blah. [Insert lame apology for not posting in a million years here.] Blah blah blah. [Empty promise to update other stories soon.] Blah blah blabitty blah. [Shameless begging for reviews.]**


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